Atonement

So why was he wondering where she’d gone?

* * *

TESSA TRIED TO still the pounding of her heart as she drove into Big Timber. It had always been like this. The man evoked feelings and desires in her like no other man ever had. She’d seen something in him, a sweetness that he’d tried hard to hide. Wasn’t that why she’d overlooked her misgivings and let him into her heart?

She shook her head, furious with herself. After everything the man had done to her, part of her had been drawn to this rancher version of Ethan even more strongly than to the old Ethan. It was when she’d seen him working with the filly. She remembered the way his large, tanned, callused hands had stroked the horse’s neck, the soft words he’d uttered as he’d removed the halter rope.

Chastising herself under her breath, she couldn’t believe she’d let him sucker her in again, and now she was leaving without her money—or the signed form that would relinquish his rights to their child. She felt like pulling the car over and just sitting and bawling.

But Tessa swore that she wouldn’t shed any more tears for the man. She couldn’t believe he’d used his dead brother’s name. What kind of man did that?

If it was true and the real Ethan Lawson had been killed in a car wreck one year ago tomorrow, then no wonder the man she’d known hadn’t mentioned that he had an identical twin. He had stolen Ethan’s identity. Was it any surprise that a man like that would steal her heart and her money?

Sick to her stomach at the realization, she wished she’d asked for copies of the newspaper clippings. But she should be able to verify it online....

Part of her argued for putting it all behind her. How could she, though, when she was carrying the man’s baby? She couldn’t have him showing up one day and trying to take her child.

Ahead she slowed as she spotted a motel not far from the Yellowstone River just outside town. The small Western town of Big Timber, Montana, didn’t quite live up to its name. She didn’t see any big timber. The pioneers must have cut all the trees down when they’d built the town. How ironic, she thought as she pulled in front of the motel unit marked Office.

After checking in, Tessa used her phone to go online to verify Ethan’s death. She felt foolish. But when the man she’d known as Ethan had disappeared, even if he had given her his real last name, she still wouldn’t have thought to search for him online. A self-professed saddle tramp, he’d appeared to be a cowboy who worked on ranches where he got room and board. She had doubted he’d ever had an apartment, paid a utility bill or owned more than his old pickup and his saddle. Which meant no paper trail, so she hadn’t even bothered to look.

No, when he’d taken off without a word in the middle the night with her money and hadn’t returned, Tessa hadn’t gone to a computer to find him. She hadn’t planned on going after him at all. What would be the point? She certainly hadn’t wanted a man like that back.

But then she’d found a dog-eared snapshot he’d left behind, and very pregnant and running on emotions like gas fumes, she’d changed her mind about finding him. She’d wanted to look him in the eye one last time.

And now she had.

* * *

FRANK CURRY COULDN’T believe how much time had passed since he’d turned in his star and gun and walked away from the only job he’d ever loved. He’d been ready to quit being sheriff, furious with the system that couldn’t find his ex-wife, Pam Chandler, and put her behind bars.

Pam had attacked him, tried to kill the only woman he’d ever loved and done horrible things to the daughter he hadn’t known existed until a year ago.

Now as he stood looking at the calendar hanging on his kitchen wall, he was thankful that his undersheriff, Dillon Lawson, had insisted he take a leave of absence instead of quitting.

His six months were up today and he was anxious to get back to his job. He’d missed being sheriff and had come to realize how much he needed it. For months now, he’d been on a quest to find Pam and put an end to the horrible things she’d done to the people he loved. He’d been crazed and was now thankful he’d finally found peace.

Glancing up, he peered out the window at his ranch yard and realized what had caught his eye. A bird had landed on the telephone line that ran from his house to the barn.

Frank blinked, his pulse jumping with both surprise and pleasure. He froze, afraid to move for fear the bird would fly away. Or worse, that it would prove to be a pesky magpie instead of a crow. He’d studied crows for years, having had a family of them on the ranch.

The crows had been the one constant in his life, other than his job. He’d named the birds, could tell them apart by their calls and thought of them as family. He’d been more than heartbroken when last year one of his crows had been killed. The family had left, warning other crows of the danger. For months he hadn’t seen a crow on his property.

Until now.

He told himself it was sign that the worst was behind him.

* * *

AFTER A RESTLESS night, Dillon was surprised to get a call from Frank Curry. “Frank, it’s good to hear from you.” It was early, but he was up, dressed and ready to go to work.

“I wanted to see how you were doing,” the sheriff said.

Frank’s six-month administrative leave was coming to an end. Dillon hoped the sheriff was calling to say he was ready to come back to work. Frank had been the best sheriff he’d ever run across—that was, until Frank’s ex-wife had done everything possible to break him. Dillon had feared that the woman was going to succeed.

“How I’m doing?” Dillon said with a laugh. “Shouldn’t that be what I’m asking you?”

“I’m fine. I’ve been doing a lot of repairs around the ranch, riding my horse up in the Crazies some and, of course, visiting my daughter.”

“How is Tiffany?” Dillon asked.

“Okay.” In other words, the same hateful girl who’d tried to kill her father. Dillon knew that the sheriff had spent a lot of time at the state mental hospital, visiting her. Recently he’d heard that a court date might be set for Tiffany’s hearing. If found competent, she would stand trial as an adult even though she’d been only seventeen when, allegedly brainwashed by her bitter mother, she’d tried to kill Frank.

“Guess what? There’s a crow sitting on my phone line to the barn,” Frank said.

Dillon could hear how that cheered Frank. He knew Frank needed something positive in his life. The sheriff had always enjoyed watching the crows that had taken up residence in his yard.

“They are so much like humans,” Frank had once told him. They’d been on a stakeout, and Frank had pointed out the way the crows reacted to each other. Dillon had never paid much attention to the birds before that. He’d always thought a crow was a sign of death or some dark omen or another.

But Frank saw the birds as good luck. He’d watched his family of crows grow on his ranch and had become very attached to them. Then Frank’s daughter, Tiffany, had killed one out of spite. The rest of the birds had left and hadn’t returned. Until now. Maybe.

“One of the crows saved my life that day,” Frank had told him. “It flew at Tiffany, distracting her and allowing me to get the gun away from her, otherwise I wouldn’t be here today.”

Dillon wasn’t sure he believed the bird had purposely helped Frank, but as long as Frank did, that was all that mattered. He’d quit asking Frank if his crows had come back.

“Dillon, I was worried about you. I know what today is,” Frank was saying. “How are you holding up?”

It surprised him that Frank had remembered, with everything the man had been going through. “Ethan’s on my mind, of course, but I’m okay. Thanks for thinking of me, though. How are you doing?”

“I’m thinking I will come back to work today.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard yet,” Dillon said, and couldn’t help smiling. Frank sounded better. No, more than that. He sounded good. Had he finally accepted things?

While the entire country had been looking for Pam Chandler for months, she hadn’t turned up. It was as if she’d dropped off the face of the earth. Dillon had feared that Frank’s obsession with finding his ex-wife would be the downfall of not only his career, but also his life.

Even though Dillon had finally talked him into taking six months, he’d had little hope that Frank would return to the job if Pam wasn’t found. It had been so hard to see Frank go down that long, dark road. He’d feared Frank would end up finding Pam, killing her and going to prison.

“How was New Mexico?” Dillon asked now.

Frank laughed softly. “I should have known you were keeping track of me. I chased down a lead, but no one down there has seen Pam since she cleared out a year ago. How is the drug investigation going?”

A shipment of cocaine with a street value of over five million dollars had disappeared from a plane that had crashed in the Beartooth Mountains, south of Big Timber, early last summer. The pilot had been killed in the crash, and four others ended up dead before it was over, two of them murdered by an unknown assailant.

“No more leads,” Dillon said. “The DEA has the case. I assume you didn’t find a connection to the drugs in New Mexico?” He’d seen the phone numbers on one of the drug runner’s cell and had discovered, as he was sure Frank had, that the man had called the ranch where Frank’s ex-wife had been staying. It was a thin connection and apparently it hadn’t panned out.

“I couldn’t find anything that would suggest they knew each other in New Mexico, even though they’d lived in the same town. Nor did I find any connection to Judge Bull Westfall where Pam had been staying.”

“I’m sorry, Frank. As you know, we have an APB out on Pam. But we haven’t gotten any hits.” Normally an easygoing, excellent sheriff, Frank had been pushed to his limit by his ex. Pam was dangerous. She’d done terrible things to Frank since their divorce. One of the worst was not telling him she was pregnant when they’d split eighteen years ago, and raising her daughter, Tiffany, to hate the father she’d never even met—until last year. Since then, Frank had been working to keep the girl out of prison—and getting her the mental help she needed at the state hospital.